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Viewing 20 results - 121 through 140 (of 249 total)
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  • #2089

    In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

    TracyTracy
    Participant

      wondered lilac, threads tart finally remarked “suppose entrance nothing?” told giant blubbit voice majorburgmester “ones link orange family case turn random heads”

      :notepad: :detective: :magnify:

      #2086

      In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

      TracyTracy
      Participant

        felicity mention help sense magic lavender deep random smell under dream

        :yahoo_smug:

        #2812

        In reply to: Snowflakes of Tens

        TracyTracy
        Participant

          The entrances to Faerie (and indeed to other alternate realities and dimensions) had been shrouded in disbelief for several centuries, but times were changing and the fog of scepticism was dissipating, evaporating like river mist on a hot summer morning. Looking for the entrances deliberately, Blithe found, wasn’t the most efficacious method. Sat Nav alone would be unlikely to reveal them, unless the locating device was used in conjunction with impulse and intuition. Any device and method could be used effectively when combined with random impulse, even Google Earth or Google Moon. Blithe’s friend and colleage Dealea Flare was making good use of this device on her travels, using it as a personal non physical airline and space shuttle service. Dealea could get from A to B and back again in no time at all, or even from A to well beyond Z and back again in no time at all using this device in conjunction with impulse and large dose of intention and focus. Blithe had the impulse down pat but still had difficulty with the focus, which was largely a case of having too many intentions at once, most of them somewhat vague.

          The more random and impulsive Blithe was, the better her investigations went, often leading her into a new and exciting exploration which may or may not be linked to the current intention. Such was the case when she went on a mundane shopping trip to the Rock of Gibber. As she sat sipping coffee at the Counterpart Cabana sidewalk cafe listening to the locals conversing in Gibberish, she noticed the extraordinary tangle of pipework on the building opposite. It reminded her of the steampunk world she had been investigating in her spare time. The text book steampunk world was intriguing to say the least, but rather grim, and tediously full of victims and fear. The inhabitants always seemed to be running away from someone. The steampunk world she was beginning to sense in Gibber was quite different in that it was a sunny cheerful alternate reality held together with a vast labyrinthine network of water pipes, scaffold, and connecting cables.

          Blithe paid for her coffee and strolled off, noticing more and more scaffolding and tangles of pipes as she climbed the warren of narrow winding streets. The air was different the higher she climbed up the winding uneven steps, the sunlight was sharper and the shadows denser, and there was a crackling kind of hush as if the air was shimmering. Cables festooned the crumbling shuttered buildings like cobwebs, and centuries of layers of crackled sun faded pastel paint coated the closed doors. Open doors revealed dark passageways and alleys with bright rectangles of light glowing in the distance, and golden dry weeds sprouted from vents and windowsills casting dancing shadows on the uneven walls.

          The usual signs of life were strangely absent and present at the same time; an occasional voice was heard from inside one of the houses, and there were pots of flowers growing here and there, indicating that a human hand had watered them with water from the pipe network. There was no music to be heard though, or any indication that the cable network was in use, and there were virtually no people on the streets. A lady in a brilliant blue dress who was climbing the steps from Gibber Town below paused to chat, agreeing with Blithe who remarked on the peaceful beauty of the place. The lady in blue said “Si, it’s very nice, but there are many steps, so many steps. If you are coming from below there are SO many steps!”

          There was a boy watching a white dog watching an empty space on the pavement, so Blithe stopped to watch the boy watching the dog watching nothing. Eventually Blithe inquired “What is he looking at?” and the boy shrugged and continued to watch the dog watching nothing. Blithe watched for a little while, and then wandered off. A small child was giggling from inside a doorway, and a mothers voice asked what he was laughing at. The child was looking out of the door at nothing as far as Blithe could see.

          As the sun climbed higher, Blithe began to descend into Gibber town, winding and weaving through the alleys, wondering how she had failed to notice this place half way up the Rock until now. She came to a crumbling wall with a doorway in it that looked out over the bay beyond the town below. This must be one of the entrances, she deduced, to this alternate world in Gibber. “Entrance”! Blithe had a revelation. “I never noticed that the word ENtrance and enTRANCE are spelled the same.” Later, back at the office, Frolic Caper-Belle said she thought it was probably a very significant clue. “I’ll file that in the Clue Box, Blithe”, she said.

          {link: entrance}

          #2805

          In reply to: Snowflakes of Tens

          ÉricÉric
          Keymaster

            “Do leaves really talk?” she wondered as the smoke of the herb tea dissipated off the kitchen’s mirror credence. “Let’s see about that,” she continued, carrying the tray with the cup of tea and the scones to the computer room, from where a few oink sounds were beckoning her.
            Probably her friends asking for a chat, some random rubbish or the last juicy news about the president’s wife who happened to be visiting in the area. In truth, she wouldn’t have even known, had it not be for her foreign friends. The local neighbours really couldn’t give a fig. That was figuratively speaking of course. The fig trees were already full of green fruits, that if odds were good wouldn’t turn up as half-sodden half-rotten food for snails on the cobblestone pathway this year.

            She added a zest of fresh lemon to the tea. She liked it bitter. The leaves were starting to settle at the bottom of the cup while she lit up a cigarette, throwing a cursory glance at the tens of messages waiting for her to peruse. Which was more interesting? She could figure out wavy things as feeble and changing as her cigarette’s smoke in between the leaves patterns, as well as in between the lines of haphazard messages from all the contacts. But those she loved the most were the pages she leafed through her books.

            Yesterday, she started to do something purely daft, as she liked — a sort of challenge, if you will; or perhaps, a strong repressed desire. Sometimes it takes you years to do things you were thinking about when you were but a child. The moment you allow yourself the pleasure to indulge and overcome the resilient beliefs that it’s something forbidden or insidiously wrong is all the sweeter.
            And she was tasting it like a sour sweet, with a touch of forbidden and the zest of excitement. Or more like horseradish. Ooh, does she live the green stuff too. Prickly at first, going up to your nose, and living you crying but begging for more. She makes a note to buy some next week (note that she’ll probably forget).
            So what did she do? She took some of her precious books and started to tear up and cut through the pages. A blasphemy almost, for someone like her who revered books. Of course, at first she only took the bad ones, the romantic rubbish and the dog-eared now useless kitchen books, but then realized, what would be the point of gathering new information by assembling random pages cut off from a variety of books, if it wasn’t made from quality ingredients. Well, it surely stands to reason, even though her culinary reason had been on voyage the last twenty years as far as she knew. Anyway. Those leafs were starting to talk better than any bloody tea leaves could.

            [link: talking leaves]

            #2796

            In reply to: Snowflakes of Tens

            TracyTracy
            Participant

              “The beginning of the snowflake age” India began, “Started pretty much at the end of the ‘dandelion puff in reverse’ age. In the Dandelion puff in reverse age, random seeds blowing around in the wind all sort of got sucked into the same place, but in no particular order.” Idai (otherwise known as India) paused to stick her tongue out at Flynn, who was making rude gestures. “In the beginning of the snowflake age, the connecting threads from the centre were known before the seeds were broadcast, simultaneously timely notwithstandingly.”

              #2456

              Lilac was rendered momentarily speechless by Nastytart’s words. Picking up her Lee Mon novel, “Making Sense in a Crazy World” she opened it at random:

              Maybe you’re not ready for the profound revelation of utter sense?

              Of course! That was it. She was not ready! :yahoo_whew:

              #2079

              In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

              TracyTracy
              Participant

                looking text wondered blubbit (usually blubbits)
                gone…
                random…
                far…. mention? sighed shar “direction peasland”

                #2677

                In reply to: Strings of Nines

                F LoveF Love
                Participant

                  Arona sighed and flipped randomly through the pages of her book. Try as she might she could not make any sense of it.

                  “You have a go, Yikesy,” she said. “See if you can figure out what it is about.”

                  #2434

                  “These old ezines and blogs are fascinating” remarked Periwinkle, passing the one she had just been reading to Daffodil. “Thank goodness some folks had the foresight to print some of them!” :news:

                  “I know, imagine if they hadn’t. We’d have no artefacts for the collection. Well, we have all those flat discs, but no way to decipher them. Oh, did I tell you? Bignonia found something even older than the discs!” :search:

                  “NO!” exclaimed Periwinkle “Do tell!” :yahoo_surprise:

                  “Yes, even older! Funny looking contraption, with two reels and a ribbon. An information storage device, so they say, although they haven’t discovered how to decipher it.” :yahoo_nerd:

                  “I wonder why we’re still not simply accessing that information without, well, without messing around with the physical contraption, you know?” :yahoo_idk:

                  “Wouldn’t be any point in being here in the first place, if we weren’t going to mess around with physical things, silly” replied Daffodil. :yahoo_doh:

                  There was no answer to that, so Periwikle didn’t answer. She continued to thumb through the printed pages. :news:

                  Periwinkle and Daffodil sat together on the patio in the warm spring sunshine, sipping lemonade :fruit_lemon:
                  and leafing through the papers. Bright white clouds in cartoon shapes romped across the blue sky, :weather-few-clouds:
                  and the birds chattered in the trees, :magpie: :magpie:
                  occasionally landing on the printed pages and cocking their heads sideways to read for a moment, before flying off to tell their friends, which was usually followed by a raucous group cackling. :yahoo_heehee: :yahoo_heehee: :yahoo_heehee:

                  “Dear Goofenoff” read Daffodil, “This one looks interesting Peri, someone here is asking for advice on a problem.” :help:

                  “What’s a “problem”, Daffy?” asked Periwinkle. “For that matter, what does the word “advice” mean? Oh, never mind” she said as she noticed Daffodil rolling her eyes, “I’ll look it up in my pre shift dictionary of defunct words.” :notepad:

                  “She’s asking the Snoot too, about the same problem. Oh, I think I’ve heard of them! It’s coming back to me, the old Snoot’n‘Goof team, they were quite famous in the beginning of the century, I remember hearing about them before in a Shift History discussion.” :cluebox:

                  “Well, I can’t say I’ve ever heard of them, but then, I’ve never been into history like you, dear. So what is this “problem” all about, then?” :yahoo_daydreaming:

                  “I’ll read it out to you, it’s way too convoluted to put in a nutshell. Lordy, they sure did complicate matters back then, it’s almost unbeleivable, really, but anyway, here goes:

                  Dear Goofenoff,

                  I don’t know what to do! I am confused about which probable version of a blog freind, let’s call him MrZ, I have chosen to align with. The first probable version was ok, nothing to worry about, and then I drew into my awareness the probable versions of MrZ that some of my freinds had chosen to align with….”

                  “Blimey”, interrupted Periwinkle, who was starting to fidget. “Is it much longer?” :yahoo_not_listening:

                  “It’s alot longer, so be patient. Where was I? Oh yes: :yahoo_nerd:

                  “….and while that was very interesting indeed, and led to lots of usefully emotionally heated discussions, I started to align with their probable version, at times, although not consistently, which led to some confusion. So then I had a chat with someone who was more in alignment with my original probable version, although there were aspects of that probable version that were a little in alignment with the other folks probable version, notwithstanding. I suppose I was still in alignment with the other folks probable version when it came to my attention that there was another individual that might be aligning with a probable version, and my question is, in a nutshell, is it any of my business which probable version the new individual on the scene is aligning with?” :yahoo_thinking:

                  “Well, I can tell you the answer to that!” exclaimed Periwinkle. :yahoo_smug:

                  Daffodil rolled her eyes. “Yes, dear, WE know the answer, but the point is, SHE didn’t know the answer at the time, which is why she asked Goofenoff.” :yahoo_straight_face:

                  “If you ask me, she knew the answer all along” Periwinkle intuited. “What did Goofenoff say anyway?” :yahoo_eyelashes:

                  “He said:

                  Are you requiring a short or a long answer?” :yahoo_raised_eyebrow:

                  Daffodil turned the page to continue reading. She frowned, and flicked through a few pages.

                  “What a shame, some of these pages appear to be missing! Now we’ll never know what Goofenoff said.” :yahoo_skull:

                  Periwinkle laughed. “Well, never mind that anyway, have you seen the random story quote today? Rather synchronistic I’d say, listen to this bit: :paperclip:

                  Illi felt much better, and was sitting at the breakfast table, basking in the warm shafts of sunlight filtering in through the window, and listening to the birds singing in the lemon tree outside.”
                  :weather-clear: :magpie: :fruit_lemon: :weather-few-clouds:

                  #2424

                  Doily said matter-of-factly to her little troop of headless travellers “Fancy a cup of tea?”

                  As none of them really cared to answer to the obvious fact that they didn’t have any teapot or sugar not to mention milk, lemon, and of course tea (other than a few random leaves that could have been used as an ersatz) she pursued her inspired tirade “Did you know that the Reunited Landers invented tea-bags by the way?”

                  Silence again.

                  “I just suddenly remembered, and it’s the funniest thing believe me… Those bloody Yorkies were sent some tea samples in silk pouches and they thought it the next best thing since the invention of boiled water and asked for more!…”
                  “Perhaps we should catch the blubbits in silk pouches…” she added after a moment.
                  “Frankly, anyone wanting to get home?” she then said with a bit of alarm in her voice “This Eighth Dimension doesn’t really got the promises of fun they sold us.”

                  “I was starting to think the same,” Pee answered raucously, startling everyone off their self induced Kuzhedoor trance state.

                  #2078

                  In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    fun summer somewhat hand free random wish heard whispered seen yurick alone life hear suppose raucous

                    :yahoo_devil:

                    “surprise others!”

                    :yahoo_skull:

                    “cave heads suddenly body!”

                    :yahoo_party:

                    “sudden self popped!”“ come words, following wondered told often; replied:

                    :yahoo_chatterbox: :yahoo_waiting: :yahoo_ttth: :yahoo_not_listening: :yahoo_big_hug: :yahoo_dontwannasee:

                    ~ “thinking thank fingers!” ~

                    certainly thread moment, perhaps lovely away…..
                    :creating_magic:

                    #2075

                    In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      Although done,
                      Stranger, mother, everyone, creature
                      looks attention:
                      Girl, perfect black.
                      Ask, perhaps himself free?
                      Smile rude.
                      Notice Leormn Fellowship Idea,
                      “Eye write”
                      Box teleport.
                      Heard wonder, let Sharon replied.
                      Random asked matter:
                      Strange sudden (usually inside) particular finally… surely feeling sound, following home… clear…

                      Realized, somewhat
                      Hear happy laugh
                      Mention hot ones
                      Magic voice
                      :creating_magic:

                      #2070

                      In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

                      TracyTracy
                      Participant

                        Saucerer read creative Walter Magpie:
                        Supposed Dream:
                        Latest pee; leave, making ancient continuity world random, stuck…..:www:

                        #2381

                        Almost unperturbed by the sudden distraction coming from the remarkably head-in-the-clouds Doily, despite her seemingly headlessness-lessness, and applying instead his famous adage, Better stick to one’s own nonsense than follow another’s Mewrich thundered “Well, if you don’t mind, I’ll explain about the beard, so that we can all get back to our business, and you out to your quest (and off my home)”.

                        “Yes! Will you finally tell us about the bird, the notes, and all that buggery to get to that Eighth dimension and vanquish the darn blubbits invasion!” Pee Stoll almost cried out.

                        Carefully, Mewrich reached out for a tiny peacock in his aviary, a poor thing which was plucking its feathers after all that noise, that he may as well have chosen at random from the menagerie.
                        “Take this bird, and make it sing four notes, I said FOUR! not one more, not one less! in front of the great portal of Nibabuz and you should be able to get past the old Keeper… JUST DON’T try to interrupt me, by the coils of the great Snakipooh, you rude tart!” “You have to get past the Keeper, but he’s old and a bit arthritic, so all you’ve got to do is have him walk on his beard, and get past him.”

                        Dolores was about to add a little flourish, but all of them, the headless Stoll family, and Doily’s eccentric entourage where ushered out of the cave by the angered Saucerer. And every Peaslander knew you wouldn’t anger a Saucerer without having to deal with dreadful consequences. The green wig of Dolores being probably the remnant of one of these consequences.

                        #2355

                        Pee Stoll, the Marshal of the Peaslands was indeed keen on investigating.

                        There was this lair of bandits, where there would surely be leads on that matter, no matter how unfocusedly random. Mungibbs would certainly reveal a bucketful of clues.

                        #2354

                        There was trouble in New Peasland. A plague of hungry blubbits had wiped out the pea crops. Peas being the main staple in New Peasland, usually mixed with marmite and made into a tasty sauce, meant that the future looked grim for the increasingly hungry New Peaslanders.

                        In desperation it was decided to send a volunteer through the portal to the Eigth dimension, where it was rumoured that the inhabitants were kind hearted but rather directionless and random, and would no doubt be happy to be given some pea producing purpose.

                        #2646

                        In reply to: Strings of Nines

                        One thing led to another, as it tends to do, while Sanso sat meditating on the enigma of The Dead Cow. Random and seemingly disjointed images flashed through his mind, not unlike a random google had been back in the old days, the first being an odd word, Kogaionon . Accessing further information, Sanso discovered that it was an ancient Transylvaniun skull. The link between the dead cow and the skull was clear ~ it was a bone sync, they both had bones, there was no denying it. Encouraged, Sanso continued to meditate.

                        :crystal-skull:

                        After some images of a battle at sea , presumably Trafalgar, Sanso intuitively felt, he heard the words “Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.” Wise words, he thought, and appropriate too. He popped these snippets into his indigo clue bag and continued to meditate. An image of a strange creature, half fish and half lion appeared next, a Merlion, which quickly morphed into an entertaining old movie playing across the screen of his minds eye, so to speak, in which someone who reminded him of Becky arrived in Paris during a rainstorm with just the clothes on her back ~ and interesting clothes they were, too! Sanso was glued to the screen, in a manner of speaking, and watched with amusement as a whole new wardrobe was delivered to the puzzled woman, followed by her mysterious benefactor: Georges.

                        Well, fancy Georges turning up again like that! Sanso was delighted. Perhaps Georges could shed some light on the mystery of the Dead Cow Blocking the Cave Entrance.

                        Sanso returned to his meditation and found himself eavesdropping on a conversation.

                        — Well, and Sanso, and Georges then, are they dead or what? How come Dory can see them?
                        — These ones are special, they have mastered the crossing of the Worlds, and can move through them. They move differently though. Sanso comes from a lineage of an ancient tribe of Zion, and had learn from them how to activate some portals, but only through the physical world of Dory, in their own time. He is not yet aware that he can also move through time as well, or even through other Worlds — worlds that he has no conception of yet.
                        Georges is more consummate in that art. Their meeting is not coincidental. You will see that.
                        — Thank you Grandad, it’s becoming a bit less confusing.
                        — Just flow with the story my little one, don’t hold on too much, or you will find it too difficult, and you will stop to find fun in it.

                        “Their meeting is not coincidental” Sanso repeated to himself, popping it into his clue bag. “Well, I don’t know about Meanings, but at least I have a new bag of clues now!”

                        #2345

                        Well I don’t know about you, she said to whoever was listening, but I am inclined to think that something rather than nothing, even if that something is off the track, round the bend, out of line, unsupported by connecting links or threads, or simply just plain rubbish, is better than no thing at all. The time has come, dear freinds, to resume random impulsive meaningless nonsense, for it has far greater continuity than anything that might actually mean something however so much as it might be deemed continuous ~ for, and I express the blindingly obvious, there is no continuity thread to be found in nothing-at-all-ness.

                        :yahoo_nerd:

                        #2062

                        In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

                        ÉricÉric
                        Keymaster

                          Morning cat work meaning Tina assignment
                          dragons taking news planet beautiful start
                          wondered away harvey truth yourself
                          communications large full surprise

                          links random needed fishes please
                          remarked friend forgotten story
                          seem tree message gone
                          stay under create body
                          weaving somehow answer remember

                          #2759
                          F LoveF Love
                          Participant

                            (same random quote as above link #87)

                            Actually, thinking of Dory made Quintin remember:

                            “They are really bit rude around here”.

                            :fleuron2:

                            Dory stretched and yawned, and took in in a cloud of dust.

                            Dory wondered out loud if she should have an older man with curly grey hair and a long maroon djelaba and a tall narrow brimless black hat and watch him get laid.

                            I am so easy really, she thought giving it a last fond stroke. She finally surfaced from the flapping tangle of cloth just in time to see a group of people squatting next to a large oblong hole in the ground.

                            PFFFFFT! Deserted again.

                            Dory was getting bored waiting for this motley crew, looking slightly bemused, but smiling happily, she set off in search of Dory.

                          Viewing 20 results - 121 through 140 (of 249 total)